Chanel Miller: Know Her Name

Judge Aaron Peresky, formerly of the California Superior Court, was recently fired from his tennis coaching position at a high school in San Jose. The high school district’s administration had previously come under fire for hiring the judge in the first place after controversy over his leniency in the infamous 2018 Brock Turner case, which had led to his eventual sacking from the bench, but it had defended Peresky’s merits, citing his past experience with coaching girls’ tennis. The day he was hired however, Change.org created a petition accusing high school officials of ignoring and allowing rape culture to ensue at high schools.

Brock Turner, a then 23-year old Stanford student, was found guilty on March 30, 2016 on the counts of assault with intent to rape an intoxicated woman, dubbed Emily Doe at the time, and sexually penetrating an intoxicated and unconscious person with a foreign object. Peresky gave Turner a six-month jail sentence with three years of probation, requiring Turner to register himself as a sex offender for life. Prosecutors had recommended a six-year sentence based on evidence of intent, secrecy, and his taking advantage of Ms. Doe’s unconsciousness. After running unopposed in a reelection and winning his seat six months later, Peresky faced a recall campaign, and on June 5, Peresky became the first judge in California to be recalled since 1977. It’s important to note the public’s role in fueling the support for this campaign, however, as multiple petitions reflecting increased public involvement were circulated, accumulating over a million signatures demanding Peresky be recalled.

The legacy of the Brock Turner case, however, is not just another instance of the paternalistic nature of the criminal justice system. Though Emily Doe did not reveal her identity over the course of the case, she has recently revealed her name, Chanel Miller, in her new memoir, “Know My Name.” Throughout the memoir, Miller writes not only about her experiences as a woman in a country that continues to favor white male elitists, which peaked when Peresky compared his decision in one case to the decision in “Brown v. Board of Education,” but also about what it means to be an Asian American woman. Miller, whose victim impact statement went viral on the Internet, addresses the sexual and gendered violence that Asian American women face—something that rarely gets discussed, despite the beginnings of what many call a fourth-wave feminist movement, emblematic in the #MeTooMovement’s awakening. Her memoir shapes and makes into reality her own platform, a platform from which women of color currently don’t have access to. Even though the introduction of the 21st century has seen the rise of more feminist movements and left-wing activism, these movements are led by privileged activists—those who have resources and access to the public sphere with minimum constraints.

Contemporary feminist movements, though centered around how the history of racial and gender lines is connected to empowerment, are often not specific to women of intersectional identites or specific races. It is not possible for the general public to address or understand the dehumanization of Asian American women throughout history without also acknowledging that Asian American women face a distinct form of violence that entails hypersexualization and fetishization, psychological tropes, and stereotypes dubbing Asian women as “submissive,” “docile,” and “silent,” trying to push a racial and gendered group of people down and forcing them to remain submissive. A 2015 study by the Asian Pacific Institute on Gender-Based Violence found that between 21 percent and 55 percent of Asian American women experience violence, physical and sexual alike, in intimate relationships. And that’s only the Asian women who actually report their violence—in most cases, Asian American women don’t report cases of violence because of a lack of financial or legal resources. This is also because of a general mistrust of legal systems writ large, stemming from fears surrounding immigrant status or the risk of alienation from one’s community and family. A study by the DOJ in 1998 found that Asian American women were the least likely to report cases of rape and physical assault. In a country where women face ever greater obstacles to “prove” that they’ve experienced violence, only the voices of a select few who have resources, support, and an established status can attract attention, which often causes minority voices to disappear in movements of empowerment.

The criminal justice system is not all that failed her; as Miller recently stated, “Stanford has also failed her.” After the 2018 sentence, a Stanford-student circulated petition to institute a garden and a plaque in memorial of the case led to a disagreement between the Stanford administration and Miller over the wording of the plaque, Stanford deeming Miller’s initial choice of an inscription to be a trigger warning for other victims of sexual assault. Her second choice also received the same response, and Miller expressed disappointment in the university. Michele Landis Dauber, a professor and the person who led the campaign to recall Judge Peresky, remained skeptical of the university’s responses, citing the example of a book that Stanford freshmen students were required to read—a book detailing Native American genocide and a story of a woman who was raped, which was mailed to students with no trigger warrnings mentioned at all. In spite of Stanford’s efforts to silence Miller’s in the making of the plaque, however, Miller is continuing to make her voice heard, and the legacy of this case remains twofold—speaking out against institutions supporting rape culture and the empowerment of Asian American women, as her actions and the inspiration that many draw from her memoir have begun to change the discussion surrounding sexual violence, creating a platform for women of color and changing the direction of movements of empowerment.